Narvi's Ring
by EntSpinster
Summary: Before Legolas and Gimli, at the end of the Second Age, there was another Dwarven Elf-friend. Narvi and Celebrimbor were remembered for together creatlng the Gates of Moria. Inspired by 'History Lessons, II", chapter 23.


I, Narvi

At the end of the Second Age there was another Dwarven Elf-friend. His friend, the Elf, was Celebrimbor, the grandson of Feanor and the master of the Jewelsmiths, who forged the Nine, the Seven, and the Three Rings, Together they created the Gates of Khazad-dum, later called Moria. Inspired by "History Lessons II", chapter 23.

The crystal of my ring has shattered, split into fragments as small as fine sand. And the band of it no longer sears my finger. And by this I know that he is dead.

He is dead, Celebrimbor Curufinion Feanorion, lord of the Jewelsmiths, who renounced Feanor's oath, and yet was cursed by it. My Silverhand, who should never have died at all, but lived on to the world's end.

And not a swift death, no, nor an easy nor a peaceful one, but caught up in the pride and despair of the Rings of Power. Seven of those were for the Dwarves, the Kings of the Seven Lines, but mine was not one of them. It was one of a pair, lesser rings made in preparation for the mightier work—he called them friendship rings. Their only virtue was to call to one another across distance, showing by their state the condition of the absent friend. Many years mine was my comfort when we were parted.

But faintly at first, and then more so, the half-globe of crystal, once clear as a dewdrop, darkened to black as obsidian. And I knew that he was troubled. I went to him then, and he told me—not everything, but enough that I too was troubled. For Annator the Giftgiver, who had been his guide and teacher in the making of the Power Rings, had forged another Ring, one to bind them to his service.

My friend then asked me to take the Seven Rings, each to its chosen Dwarf King, saying that they would be safer in the depths of the Mountains. The Three Rings were likewise given, though I will not repeat, now or ever, who had the gift of them. And the Nine remained with the Jewelsmiths—he said he did not think any Man had the strength of spirit to hide, let alone resist them.

And he bade me return to Khazad-dum. The black crystal showed, for a time, some lightening. Then it grew darker, and having grown as dark as it could be, remained so. The vibrations of the deep rock now called the Giftgiver the Enemy, and rightly so.

Things seemed well enough in Khazad-dum, though a greater harshness had fallen on my King. If forces gathered against us, no Dwarf-eye saw them. It has been but three days since the band of my ring grew hot on my finger, and I knew that he was in pain. Word came to the Friendship Gate that the City of the Jewelsmiths was besieged and taken. Durin ordered all the Gates shut and barred then, and hard it was for me to convince him to let me, and some few others who had not forgotten the comradeship of the forge, to pass through the Gate first. At last he allowed it for those in their last years, who would soon be burdens and not helpers. He warned us that the Gates would not be opened again until all was resolved, but none of us, I think, ever expected to return to them.

We marched as swiftly as we could, joining forces with some Men bound on the same errand, but before we neared the City my ring grew cool, and its stone shattered. Then I knew we had come too late, not only to save him, but to speak, or exchange glances, or shorten his dying.

Now one of the long-sighted Men with us can see the City, and terrible is what he tells of what rises above its walls like a banner. His wise hands mutilated, and not, I fear, after dying. His body shot through with black and clumsy orc arrows. His fair face left untouched, that all may know him. Now I am grateful that the sight of Dwarves is short, and grows shorter with aging.

Now there is nothing left to do, but to engage the Enemy, hoping that some from the City may escape while the "Giftgiver" fights us. And to make sure that neither I nor mine have a chance to betray those folk, or the Elf Rings either..

This should not be a problem, for the Enemy has Dragons. They are less than the great ones of old, but they should be sufficient.


End file.
